


You Can Run, But You Can't Hide

by Punkabillyprincess



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Boba Fett/Reader - Freeform, Boba Fett/You - Freeform, Choking, Creampie, Edging, F/M, Fingering, PWP, Plot With Porn, Porn With Plot, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28639899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punkabillyprincess/pseuds/Punkabillyprincess
Summary: Boba Fett has been tasked with hunting you down, after you escaped slavery, and bringing you back to your new Master to be punished and made an example of.The only problem? Boba Fett falls for you, dear reader.Essentially porn with plot!
Relationships: Boba Fett/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Season 2 of The Mandalorian

The cacophony of music, shouting, and drinks clinking hit you like a brick wall as you walked into the dimly lit cantina. The air inside was heavy with the mingled scents of sweat, musky pheromones, food, and alcohol.

Picking your way through the crowd, you found a seat in a corner, away from all the action, and where you would have your back against a wall; preventing anyone from sneaking up on you, unawares.

Sitting down, you pulled the heavy cloak off of your shoulders, to pool around your hips on the worn, wooden bench. It was far too warm inside the cantina, with all these bodies and activities going on, for you to keep the extra layer bundled around you. And with the humble clothes you were wearing, no one would look at you twice.

A service droid rolled up to your table to take your order, but when you tried to tell it you weren't hungry it started rambling on about policies and that if you weren't going to spend any credits, you had to leave.

"Fine. Can I have some water?" You asked, annoyed at the droid, but more annoyed at yourself for not having stolen just a few more credits before departing the cargo ship you had stowed away on.

The droid beeped a series of times and then rolled off to collect the glass of water for you.

Propping your elbows on the table, you cradled your head in your hands and recalled the last week's events, and your adventure in finally escaping slavery.

You had been kidnapped ten, or maybe twelve, years ago and sold into the slave market. Passed from buyer to buyer, you were never a good "fit" for what they were looking for.

Some buyers wanted laborers, others wanted experienced...entertainers - luckily you didn't meet the physical requirements of either of those. And then there were those who wanted to watch slaves fight for their lives against various monstrous creatures.

It was the latter you'd been escaping, when you stowed away on a scheduled cargo ship.

After being purchased and brought to their secret base of operations, on some planet in the outer rim, you were being outfitted with a new collar and waiting for it to be sized when you saw your chance. The guards had left their post, you don't know why and frankly you didn't care, but that was when you had made a break for it.

Seeing a large freight ship docked, with piles of crates waiting to be processed, you looked both ways before sprinting into the freighter, and climbing inside an empty crate, near the back of the cargo hold.

You held your breath, waiting for something to rip open the crate and drag you out, but it never happened. Sighing a breath of relief, you allowed yourself to relax inside the crate, and eventually you managed to fall asleep.

Waking up much later, and on a different planet, you had crawled out of the crate in search of food, water, and hopefully a change of clothes. Luckily, you were able to find a locker room, with an open locker, chock full of spare clothes, and a bottle of water. You had chosen a loose fitting short sleeve shirt, with a V neck, and strings laced through the V, a heavy winter cloak, and form fitting black pants. With a little more scrounging, you were able to find a small satchel with a couple credits stashed inside.

The droid had returned with your glass of water, drawing you from your memories. You mumbled a quiet "thanks." and placed enough credits on the table to cover your drink.

Someone grabbed your hand before you could pull back, his grip firm.

"Allow me." came his modulated voice. Looking up, you were met with the moss green T visor of a Mandalorian bounty hunter. The fear that enveloped your features was evident, even as adrenaline began to pump through your veins, causing you to begin fighting his hold.

"Easy there, Princess. Wouldn't want to bruise you, or worse."

You stopped fighting his hold, the threat in his words cutting through that Fight or Flight fog that had taken you over. Staring up at the bounty hunter, you cringed inwardly, and involuntarily jerked your captive hand. His grip tightened painfully, but not yet enough to bruise or break anything.

"Stop! You're hurting me!" You cried out, your free hand now prying at his fingers in a feeble attempt to loosen his grip.

The bounty hunter leaned across the table, pulling you up and over it by your wrist, to meet him half way. You were so close to him now that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, though the armor and padding, and your nose was nearly touching his visor.

"What did I tell you?" Came his modulated voice again, this time more menacing. He had an accent you couldn't quite place, but you found it intriguing, despite being terrified by it.

Ignoring his question, you tried pleading once more, "Please, let me go! I didn't do anything!" You couldn't let him take you back to that wretched slave pit, no matter what.

"You have the wrong person." You declare, twisting your wrist again, hoping to break his hold. It doesn't work, his grip tightens painfully again, this time causing you to gasp audibly.

The bounty hunter just stares at you while you writhe in pain from the grip he has on your wrist, and then pulls out a small dark object that is hard to see in the dim light of the cantina. There's a high pitched, rapid beeping coming from the device.

Nodding at it, "That's a tracking fob. You're the one I'm looking for, Princess."

His words sting, and cause you to flush, but only because it's as if he's mocking you, and reminding you of your status.

Wincing, from both the physical pain, and embarrassment, you avert your gaze from his visor and ask, "Please don't call me 'Princess'."

The bounty hunter continues to stare. You could practically feel his eyes boring holes into the top of your skull.

After a few tense seconds, "Time to go, Princess." The hunter states, voice gravelly, with some unknown emotion, as he looks around at the audience the two of you had garnered.

You're not sure if he heard you, or if he just doesn't care - but it's probably the latter, you decide as he drags you through the bustling cantina and out into the cold night air.


	2. Little One

Standing outside of the cantina, the bounty hunter cuffs your hands together. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body as he stands so close to you, and it's the only thing preventing your teeth from chattering together, as the icy wind bites into your very soul. Once he turns away from you, it's all over.

You hunch over, regretting not having the chance to grab your heavy, warm cloak, before being dragged out into a blizzard. Teeth chattering away, cuffed hands tucked between your thighs, you begin walking as the hunter leads you away, from the light and warmth of the cantina and into the dark, bitter cold of the night. After a few minutes of stumbling along in the dark, being led by the hunter, you collapse to your knees, shivering violently, and losing his grip on your cuffs.

The hunter whips around towards you, expecting to see you having made a break for it, but falls short when he sees you curling into a ball, in a feeble attempt to remain warm.

Within a few short seconds he has scooped you up out of the snow, cradling you against his cold, beskar plated chest, and blocking some of the biting wind. You turn your face, nuzzling against his neck for warmth, and finding yourself breathing in his scent. The bounty hunter smells like leather and gun oil, but most of all he smells comforting. You find yourself relaxing in his arms, and a certain peacefulness overcomes you, despite the bitter cold.

All too soon, the hunter and you have arrived at his ship, and are boarding it. Within seconds the doors are closed and he is gently placing you in a cot, before he walks away. His absence leaves you feeling hollow and cold again. After a moment though, the hunter returns with a thick blanket and drapes it around your frame, careful to tuck it strategically so it doesn't fall off right away, hands lingering as he does so.

Shyly, you glance up at his visor, and then quickly back down. Your fear of him is still alive and well, but there's another emotion you're feeling, that you can't quite identify yet.

"What do I call you?" You ask, distracting yourself from your own emotions. "You apparently know who I am, but who-"

The hunter cuts you off, "Boba Fett.", before he stands up straight, and leaves you in the cot. He picks his way into the cockpit, without another word.

That strange feeling in your chest turned into anger at Boba's coldness, because didn't he just save you from the cold? He could have left you to die and could then take your head back to The Master as proof that he found you. But no, he chose to keep you alive. Or maybe his mission was to keep you alive long enough to be delivered? Doubts swarmed in your head, and in your heart.

Feeling emotionally fatigued, you lay down on your side, in the cot, and couldn't help but notice that the pillow smelled like him.

Boba had given you his bed.

Curious, and confused again, you sniffed the blanket he had wrapped around you. It, also, smelled of leather, but not gun oil. Instead it was more of a musk, like this was the blanket he slept with every night, for months. This realization warmed your blood and quickened your heart, for you were in Boba Fett's bed - wrapped up in his blanket.

Albeit with your hands cuffed and he probably thought you were some kind of crazed criminal.

Reminded of this, you sat up again and threw the blanket off your shoulders, and began inspecting the cuffs. They seemed to be locked with some kind of electro magnetic coupling link. Sighing, you knew you'd never break out of them on your own, but you also couldn't go back to that planet.

You had heard stories of slaves being ripped to pieces by the Master's pets, and then fed to the other slaves for dinner that same night. The thought of either of those things happening to you made your blood run colder than the howling blizzard outside this very ship.

Thinking fast, you grabbed the blanket Boba had given to you, and dashed for the doors you had been carried through. As you reached those doors, the whir of the ship's engines starting up spurred you to move faster. You knew you'd only have a few seconds head start before the ship alerted Boba to the doors being opened, but that was better than just letting yourself be delivered to the Master. At least this way if you died, then you did so as a free woman.

Smashing your open palm into the control panel, you watched as the door lowered. You tugged the blanket tight around your head and shoulders before fleeing the ship and into the blizzard.

Sure enough, within seconds you could hear the ship's alarm go off once, before Boba turned it off and was no doubt following you into the blizzard.

You ran, and ran, through the trees; heart pounding like a drum. The muscles in your thighs burned with exertion, even as every gasp of air seemed to freeze your lungs. As you turned to glance over your shoulder, something barreled into you, knocking the air from your lungs, and landing firmly on top of you.

Wheezing, and gasping for air, you lay in the cold snow, somewhat dazed from being tackled.

Boba Fett rolled to his feet, grabbed the cuffs that were still firmly binding your wrists, and hauled you to your feet before throwing you over his shoulder. He made sure his blanket was tucked, around the two of you before he turned on his heel and began the short trek back to his ship.

He was silent, the entire time. You could sense his anger rolling off of him in waves. And if this didn't earn you a night in the brig, without food or water, then you didn't know what would.

Once back on the ship, again, Boba set you on your feet and tossed the blanket on his cot, before turning his fury on you. His hand shot up to grip you by the throat, and pushed his body up against yours, causing you to stumble backwards into the hard wall.

Boba leaned in close enough to touch the tip of your nose with his T visor, "You’re no good to me dead." He uttered, venom dripping from his voice. You knew he was angry at you for trying to escape, but the fact that his hand was wrapped around your throat with a firm grip, and his hard body was pressed into yours, had you flushed and squeezing your thighs together. You tried not to make a sound while he was so close to you, and touching you like this but you couldn't stop the way your body had begun to react. It had been so long since you had been with someone.

Your reaction didn't go unnoticed.

"Problem, Princess?" Boba asked, accented voice gravelly and seductive. His head tilted to the side ever so slightly, you thought he might be trying to get a better look at your all too expressive face.

Shifting his hold on your throat, and pressing his hips into yours a little more, Boba leaned in and whispered, "You need to be punished for running away, little one."

Boba reached his free hand up under his helmet, and then back out, leaving his glove behind - you assumed it was clenched between his teeth. His now bare, free hand was a golden brown with tiny scars zig-zagging every which way, his fingers long, and thick.

Caressing your cheek, Boba pressed his thumb against your lips, seeking entrance to your mouth. You parted your lips ever so slightly, tongue involuntarily slipping out to lick your lips, but finding his thumb instead.

After a few seconds, he began to move his free hand slowly down your body, only stopping momentarily to grope your breast and grunt out a pleased sound. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to resist the sensual feelings that had been flowing through your body, only to pool at the junction between your thighs.

Just when you thought Boba would focus on your breasts a little longer, his hand had found it's way to your groin. He deftly unzipped the top of your pants and reached his hand inside, thick, strong fingers finding your pussy lips. It was embarrassingly easy for him to slip a finger inside of you, which, at this action you couldn't help the whimper that escaped your lips. It felt so good to have his finger inside you, pumping, and probing.

"Open your eyes." He said, and it wasn't a request.

Slowly, you opened your eyes to look into his moss green visor once more, and when you did Boba slipped another finger inside you, and his thumb found the delicate and oh-so-sensitive bundle of nerves that was your clit. Your eyes became hooded, and your mouth found the familiar O shape as you moaned and whimpered out your pleasure.

His thumb was rubbing circles and his fingers pumping rhythmically inside of you, until he found your g-spot. Your legs turned to jello and you could no longer stand on your own, your cuffed hands seeking purchase on the hunter's armored shoulder. The hand around your throat squeezed just enough to leave you feeling light headed, yet mentally begging for more.

You could feel your orgasm mounting, as you rocked your hips in time to Boba Fett's fingers, racing to catch that wave of explosive pleasure. And when you did, you clenched your thighs around his wrist, locking his hand in place, as your hips bucked and you screamed out in pleasure.

Boba pressed the cool forehead of his helmet against your sweaty one and rumbled out, "Good girl." As he withdrew his hand from you. Dazed, and panting, you smiled at him, secretly pleased to be called a good girl. Before he released your throat, Boba pressed his fingers against your lips. You could feel your juices rapidly cooling on his fingers, and still riding the high that is your orgasm, you opened your mouth and welcomed those fingers, tasting yourself.

Leisurely, you sucked and licked his fingers, cleaning off all the slick that had clung to him.

"Keep sucking like that and l won't be able to control myself. I'll have to fuck you. Is that what you want?" Boba accused you, one hand still wrapped around your throat. His voice held a promise and a threat.

It scared you, so much so that you stopped what you were doing immediately. For you knew that sleeping with a bounty hunter was bad news. You would get emotionally attached, and he would just hand you over to the Master for a bag of credits and be on his merry way. Meanwhile you would be stuck, a slave once more, and possibly pregnant with no way out.

Boba released your throat, and used his two free hands to zip up your pants. His cold demeanor was back once again, as this time he guided you to the cot and chained you to the wall, with only enough length to lay down somewhat comfortably.

This time when your head hit the pillow, you were already falling asleep.


End file.
